“You outdid yourself, Aymee,” I breathe, running my hand down the glittering beads.
“And for the finishing touch.” Aymee holds out a familiar band of intertwining leaves that have begun to turn from a vibrant green to a dusty yellow.
“Is that one of my bracelets?” I ask.
She nods, and I take the small accessory in hand. While the rest of the clothes I’d worn on the island were likely burned ina pit, I’m happy to see that this one piece of handmade jewelry survived. A small token of the island.
“Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
She gestures for my hand, and I lift it before she takes the delicate bracelet and slides it onto my wrist. “I thought it wouldn’t be the Missy we’ve all come to know without a little handmade trinket.”
The Missy we’ve all come to know.I let the words roll around in my mind. Her comment, though kind, makes me shift awkwardly. It’s a new type of vulnerability speaking to someone about the life they’ve watched me live on live television. On the island, we saw the drones and the cameras all day every day, and while I knew those devices were the windows for millions of people watching us twenty-four seven, I tried not to let the idea of it all sink in. But now, hearing someone who wasn’t on the island talk as if she were there makes me feel like a goldfish in a fish tank. I exit the dressing room, wondering if any part of me will regret exposing so much of my private life so publicly, including my relationship with Colton.
It takes me several minutes to stiletto my way from the makeup-and-dressing hangar over to the hangar where the winners’ interview will take place. By the time I arrive, my emotions feel like a bubbling stew uncontrollably spilling over the edges of a pot.
Anxiously, I walk past several crew members and spot Legend and Silver in a pair of nice street clothes. Like me, they’ve showered and been gussied up, but since they came in second place, they will only take part in the more casual postshow interviews—short segments that get aired onSunsets and Sabbotage’sYouTube page but are not part of the official live television episode today.
Silver scans my dress, her fake lashes flattening until her eyes are nothing but slits. “That dress would have looked better on me. But the sunburn on your cheeks goes nicely with dark blue.”
My eyebrows rise. “Thanks.” Though likely an insult to anyone else, coming from Silver’s lips, that was a compliment. I send her a small smile. “You both played a good game.” A vicious and amoral game, but a good game, nonetheless.
“Don’t bother placating us. We’ve already gotten an offer to appear on The Heartless. We’ll easily win that,” Legend says.
A game show all about lies and stealth—they’ll be fantastic. “Oh, well, congratulations. You’ll be an excellent team.”
“Ugh. Again, we don’t need your consolation.” With a wave of Legend’s hand, I’m dismissed.
“Okay, then.” I give a parting smile, which Silver and Legend completely ignore, and I turn on my heels. I head toward a small area specifically set up for an intimate interview. Two spotlights shine down at the center of a wooden platform with a largeSunsets and Sabotagelogo splayed across it in vibrant corals and yellows. Atop it are two familiar chairs in a bright teal. These are the chairs we sat in during our opening interviews that, unlike the ones we occupied on the island, are void of any tears or missing padding.
Once more, my emotions rise to the surface—the stress of being filmed, the joy and responsibility of winning, the sadness of leaving the island—all of them expand uncomfortably inside me. But then my eyes latch on Bill’s gray head of hair as he talks to someone standing just behind the fabric of a large rectangular light reflector. Bill’s features are not filled with the usual joviality I’ve come to know, but instead, his eyes zone in as he speaks with intention and urgency to whomever he is with. Curious, I walk farther into the hangar, my heels clip-clopping on the floor, until I see who Bill is talking to. My heart stammers.
Colton nods at Bill. Just the image of Colton blocks my airways as he stands handsome and tall in a tailored tan suit. But unlike all the other times I’ve seen Colton in formal wear, he’s without a tie, with the collar of his light-blue shirt unbuttoned. His hair is combed neatly like it always was before the show, but this time it’s visibly less gelled, giving his hair a natural wave. And though his hairstyle is devoid of any of those cute little flyaways I’ve grown to love, I like how this new style captures him so well; it’s laid-back and sophisticated in one. And to top it all off, he’s kept a thin layer of facial hair, reminding me of the Colton I’ve come to know on the island.
Oh, goodness gracious. Either the heels I’m wearing are too high, or I’m going weak at the knees.
The feeling inside of me is instantaneous and undeniable. I feel at peace. One look at Colton, and it’s like someone’s slammed a lid on all my boiling emotions. I try to hold back a smile. How did I go from hating him to feeling so completely at home with him? Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would fall for Colton, let alone trust him as I do now.
Colton’s eyes flick from Bill over to me, then back to Bill, then instantly back to me. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. The way his eyes appraise me makes my heart skip a beat. I bite my lip, trying to quell my bout of sudden nerves under his all-consuming stare, but when his eyes light with obvious admiration, I feel lighter than air.
Bill follows Colton’s gaze, and he smiles just as Colton mouths the wordwowin my direction, followed byyou look beautiful. At least, that’s what my shoddy lip-reading skills interpreted it as. I can only hope he wasn’t actually saying “Wow. Look at that sandwich table.”
I look behind me, where there is indeed a sandwich table bursting with ham-and-cheese sandwiches, and despite how tasty they look, I deflate. I really hope the sandwiches weren’tthe target of Colton’s admiration. But then I spot Maria limping toward me, and all thoughts of stupid sandwiches disappear.
“Maria!” I hike my dress above my heels and close the distance between us, my eyes glued to the bloodstained gauze around her calf. “What happened?”
Maria brushes off my comment, swishing her bright floral skirt around her calf as if to hide her injury, but I saw what I saw. “Maria, you need to sit down,” I say with all the concern I feel. “How did that happen?”
“I’m fine, Missy. I’m just so excited for you and Colton. Bill and I couldn’t be happier for you two. Are you hungry, Mija? I’m hungry.”
“Maria, no, no, no. You are not changing the subject,” I say with my sternest voice.
“Maria Luciana Christina, what happened?” Bill rushes to Maria’s side, worry on his face, and together we double-team her.
Maria rolls her eyes. “Oh, you two. It’s just a little scrape I got from the raft.”
“Maria,” Bill presses.
“They said I don’t need stitches. It’s hardly painful.” Maria shrugs.
